Fealty and Honour
by Random Rose
Summary: Ryn may be the wrong gender, but when her best friend is conscripted into service for the hated Romans, she will not be left behind. Is most definitely now [LancelotOC]!
1. Conscription

**Fealty and Honour  
**© 2006 Random Rose**  
**

**Conscription**

"Hurry, Ryn. They're almost here."

The young girl did as she was told, shoving the last of her meager belongings into a sack before rushing outside to mount her horse. The Romans, come to collect the next round of Sarmatian boys conscripted for knighthood, were just over the ridge and closing fast.

Ryn felt her horse shudder beneath her, as reluctant to leave as she was. She stroked its neck in reassurance, catching the eye of the boy she was determined would not leave her behind.

Lancelot had known his fate since he was a babe in his mother's arms. Their people had been conquered by the Romans, and 'rewarded' for their bravery and horsemanship by being conscripted into the Roman army. Some reward. Torn away from family and home in order to serve in foreign lands to protect an empire they'd rather destroy. He gazed out over the rolling hills at the approaching company, resigned, but unhappy.

Looking back over his shoulder, he watched Ryn calming her horse. He had spent months trying to dissuade her, but she would not hear it. Her disguise was effective enough – she was at an age where her femininity was hardly developed, so to pretend to be a boy was hardly a stretch.

He didn't really understand her insistence on going with him. Why would you _choose_ to leave your people and your land? Granted, her family had all been killed in a harsh Sarmatian winter six years ago, but others had taken her in – his own family had all but adopted her. He sighed heavily and turned back to watch the approach of the horsemen.

"Father, they are here," he stated the obvious. More for something to say than anything else.

"The day has come," his father answered, sadness and pride mingling in his voice.

Ryn stepped her horse closer to Lancelot's, watching his interaction with his father and missing hers with a fierceness that almost brought tears to her eyes.

"There is a legend," Lancelot's father started, stroking the heads of the two horses in front of him, "that fallen knights return as great horses. They have seen what awaits you, and will protect you."

"Lancelot! Ryn!" a young girl shouted from one of the tents they called home. She rushed over, holding out gifts in both her hands. She presented them to the two riders, bear amulets carved from stone – symbols of protection; symbols of home.

Lancelot ran his thumb over the amulet, and made up his mind. He looked over at Ryn and saw that she had also made up hers. "Don't be afraid," he said to his family. "We will return."

And with that, he and Ryn set their horses in motion and made their way to the rag-tag group of riders.

"How long will we be gone?" he asked one of the Romans.

"Fifteen years," the man said brusquely, "Not including the months it'll take to get to your post."

"Lancelot! Ryn!" his father called out, then, along with the rest of the people at the camp, raised his fist in the air and bellowed the Sarmatian battle cry, "Rus!"

Ryn watched her friend's dark features grow darker and knew in that moment he had become the most dangerous of all knights – as likely to kill a Roman as to protect him. She vowed in her heart that if she were allowed to do nothing else, she would make every effort to protect him from himself.

Their ride to the south of Britain did take months. The trek cross country was as hard and unforgiving as the hearts of the boys in the company. They only spoke to each other when the Romans were asleep or out of hearing. They rarely spoke of where they were going; rather they spoke of where they had been – their homes and families.

It didn't take long before their rag-tag crew became a family unto itself. The boys were united in their hate for the Romans, but also in their resignation that this was what their fate required of them. They had each determined that they would do their best to make due until their time of conscription was past and they could return to the home they were leaving behind.

At first, Ryn had not been sure whether to keep her secret from the Romans only, or to keep it also from the boys she was with. However, she discovered that it had taken one of the boys, Dagonet, about two days to determine her true identity. In the quiet of one moonless night, he informed her of such.

"You are not a boy, are you?" he stated more than asked, as the troupe quietly ate their meal together after the Romans had retired.

She looked at him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction to her. "I am not," she admitted.

He just nodded and continued eating.

"You did not have to come," Gawain observed. "Why did you?"

"I would not be left behind," she answered. "Am I welcome?" she asked quietly.

"I would there were more like you, little sister," Bors said sincerely.

She bowed her head in silent thanks and returned to her meal.

Lancelot looked at the faces of the boys around the fire, trying to determine what they really thought of having a girl in their company. None of them seemed even the tiniest bit fazed. She had already proved her riding skills and had enough tracking abilities that the Romans had quickly put her to use to help them hunt for meat along the way. He caught her eye and nodded slightly, acknowledging that he approved of the situation. She nodded back, relieved at the acceptance given her.


	2. Training

_AN Okay, so I completely forgot to include my author's note in my first chapter - my bad. Here is my disclaimer: I obviously don't own any characters you recognize, but Ryn is completely mine. _

_I know there are a few girl-disguised-as-boy fics about this movie already, so I apoligize if you feel like I've stolen your idea. I hope this can be a welcome addition to those stories._

_Thanks to everyone who have already submitted reviews - I am trying to take most of your advice! Please continue to R&R!  
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**Training**

The boys found the Romans to be an efficient lot. They wasted no time in beginning the boys' training. The long ride was used to teach weapon handling on horseback, tracking, hunting and indoctrination of the Roman way of life.

The boys and Ryn were fast learners, many of them already possessing rudimentary weaponry skills. The Romans encouraged them to master one or two types of weapons, rather than try to learn them all. Ryn, along with another boy, Tristan, chose the bow and arrow as their primary weapon. Tristan had uncanny accuracy, and it became Ryn's goal to match him, shot for shot, by the time they reached their post. She and Tristan would often be found practicing late into the night, Tristan patiently adjusting her hold, stance and sight.

"Breathe," he would tell her. "Just let the arrow be."

By the time they reached Britain, they were ready for more intensive training. They learned swordsmanship, archery, spear handling, and hand-to-hand combat. Ryn, because she was smaller than the rest, was ideal for scouting. She learned how to become invisible in the forest, how to sneak up on an enemy camp, plan for ambushes and warn her company. Her training also served to help her keep her identity secret from the Romans. She was able to sneak away to wash or perform other bodily functions that might otherwise give her away.

In Britain, they also met their future commander, Artorius, or Arthur, a boy about their age, with clear eyes and a unique approach to leadership. He insisted on training with the knights every day, and asked nothing of them that he was unwilling to do himself. It did not take long for the Sarmatian boys to become fiercely loyal to him, and for him to become fiercely loyal to them.

One afternoon, as he was tending to the horses, 16-year-old Lancelot found himself at the wrong end of a Roman soldier's bad day. The man stormed into the stables, grabbed Lancelot by the shirt and dragged him into the courtyard where he began to beat him with the leather reigns of a horse.

"What are you doing?" Arthur demanded when he came upon the scene.

"It's none of your business, boy," the soldier said, raising his arm to strike Lancelot again.

Arthur grabbed a nearby sword and rushed between the soldier and Lancelot. "This is my knight," he said in a low hiss, pushing the tip of the sword into the man's unprotected neck, "and that makes it my business. What has he done?"

When the soldier wouldn't answer him, Arthur pressed the sword a little harder against the man's neck.

"Your silence damns you," he said. "Leave now, or I will consider your life forfeit."

The soldier had no choice. Arthur was technically his commander, too, even though he was still no more than a boy. He threw the reigns to the ground and with one last, dirty look at Lancelot, he left.

Arthur turned and helped Lancelot off the ground. No words were said, only a look was exchanged, but in that moment, the two became fast friends.


	3. Knight and Woman

_AN Here's another chapter to whet your appetite...  
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**Knight and Woman**

After three years of training, the young knights were ready for their first assignment. They huddled around a bright fire in the courtyard the night before their deployment, contemplating the task before them and drinking strong Meade and ale to steady any nerves that might be shaky.

Lancelot looked up as Ryn joined the group. He was taken aback by her appearance. She usually wore a fair amount of padding under her clothes to disguise her growing bosom that wouldn't be held back enough by the leather straps she wound around it. She had shed all that this evening, revealing her natural, feminine curves. He hardly recognized her and realized very quickly that his companions were in the same boat. Conversation had stopped and all eyes had turned in her direction.

A deep blush came to her cheeks, and she began to stare at the fire to avoid catching anyone's eye. The young men shifted in their seats, unsure of what to do with themselves. It was Ryn, but it was more than Ryn.

"Am I welcome?" she asked quietly.

Bors coughed. "I would that there were more like you," he said, but didn't look her in the eye nor mean what he had meant three years ago.

Lancelot quickly stood and motioned for Ryn to follow him. She trailed behind him meekly, unsure if she was in for rebuke or worse. He was waiting for her in the stables, a worried look on his face.

"You can't keep up your ruse much longer," he said softly. He found it hard to look at her. He had never thought of her as beautiful before, but he certainly couldn't avoid that thought now.

She looked down at herself bitterly, as if resenting the gender that had been chosen for her. "What am I to do?" she wondered aloud. "The men…can't see me as equal when I look like this."

Lancelot swallowed hard, forcing his eyes back to her face. "I worry more about the Romans. They're likely to find you out sooner than later."

Her eyes hardened and her fists clenched. She hated their conscriptors as much, if not more, than he did. "I do not fear them."

He put his hands on her arms. "I know you don't. But they will want to send you away."

Fear sprung up in her eyes then and anxiety flooded her senses at all the 'what ifs' that thought brought to her mind. Being sent away had always been her worst fear in all of this.

"I won't leave you," she said in a harsh whisper.

Her sincerity moved him in a way he couldn't explain. He pulled her towards himself and embraced her, surprised at how naturally it seemed to happen; surprised too at how good she smelled – like a lavender field on a summer morning. "Arthur is a friend," he told her, "I will speak to him."

She just nodded and submitted to his embrace, wondering at the strange tingling sensation running up and down her spine at his touch.

He stepped away from her, gave her an awkward smile and headed back to the fire. She, uncertain as to what to do, lingered in the stable.

Lancelot saw that his friend had made it to the gathering. He was drinking and laughing at a story Bors was telling him.

"Arthur," Lancelot called when he was in earshot. Arthur turned, and upon seeing his friend, got up and went over to him.

"Lancelot! Where have you been? You're missing the revelry. Where's Ryn?" Arthur took a swig of ale and offered it, smiling, to Lancelot. His smile faded when he saw his friend's distressed face. "Where's Ryn?" he asked again, this time concern etched his voice.

Arthur followed Lancelot back to the stables where Ryn had stayed. She stepped into the light of the lantern when she saw them approach.

"Oh," was all Arthur said when he saw her. Like the others, though he knew her true identity, he had not often seen her without her disguise and was taken aback by the woman who now stood before him.

"We worry the Romans will find her out and send her away," Lancelot explained.

"You are my brothers," she stated simply. "I will not leave you,"

Arthur furrowed his brow, contemplating the situation; trying very hard not to fixate on the womanly features of the girl he called friend and brother…sister-in-arms. He finally said, "_If_ they find you out, I will handle it then."

"Will you ask me to leave?" she wanted to know.

"I may ask you to leave," Arthur acknowledged, "but I won't send you away."

Ryn bowed her head in thanks. She trusted Arthur completely and would abide by his judgment. He was a good leader who knew each of his knights personally. He would not abandon her after all this time.

"Thank you, Arthur," Lancelot said.

Arthur's face broke into a big smile. "We're family, Lancelot. We look out for each other. Now, come. We must fellowship before we go to battle."

Lancelot smiled back and turned to rejoin the knights at the fire.

"Come, little sister," Arthur said to Ryn, "I will see to it that the men are civil to you; though I'm sure you must have shocked them earlier."

She felt herself relax a little. "You'd think they'd never seen a woman before," she quipped with a grin.

Arthur laughed and she knew in her heart that all would be well.

The two returned to the fire and took their place among the knights. The initial shock of Ryn's appearance seemed to have worn off and her presence seemed to be less disconcerting. Lancelot gave her a reassuring smile and Dagonet brought her a mug of ale, roughly mussing her hair after she took it. She smiled at him, grateful for the show of affection and the restatement of her place in the group – the little sister, who might not be so little anymore, but still sister nonetheless.


	4. Unmasked

_AN Conflict number one... R&R, please!  
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**Unmasked**

The next morning, the knights saddled up and prepared for their first task – they were to squash a British uprising west along Hadrian's Wall. Ryn had spent a good long time ensuring her disguise was flawless that day. The straps around her chest cut into her skin and made it hard to breathe, but to her, it was a small price to pay. She was certain she would not be discovered. Not today, anyway. She mounted her stallion and took her place among the knights.

Unfortunately, Ryn's certainty didn't take into account the split hoof of one of the soldier's horses. It bucked the instant its rider mounted and reared in the air in a panic. She was too close to avoid being struck by the animal and knocked from her own horse. Her tunic caught on the saddle and tore along the seam, revealing the padding she wore to disguise her shape. She rushed to untangle herself, but it was too late. The solider that came around to see what had happened noticed immediately.

"What are you hiding?" he demanded, tugging at the padding until it came loose and fell around her feet. "Give it to me," he said.

The soldier examined it, patting it over and then slicing it open with his knife. He tossed it at her feet and was about to say something when he actually took a good hard look at her. Even with her breasts strapped down, there was no mistaking the shape of her curves.

The man's face turned red with rage. He swiftly stepped toward her, made a cut in the top of her tunic and began to tear it open down the middle before Ryn even had a chance to react. In just about the same instant, two blades were at the man's throat. Lancelot's face was dark and dangerous. "Release her, or you die," he said, his voice hard and cold.

Ryn looked up to see that the knights had surrounded them, each with their weapon pointed directly at her tormentor.

"A woman cannot be a knight!" the man spat viciously.

"Why not?" Arthur wanted to know. "She has trained with us for three years. She is our best scout and a valuable part of this company. I see no reason why she cannot be a knight."

"Mark my words, God will curse you if you allow this woman to stay," the soldier hissed, angry eyes never leaving Ryn's face.

The Roman charged with mentoring Arthur spoke up. "What you say about her may be true, but she is a liability – one we cannot afford. You must send her away."

Arthur seemed to contemplate this advice. He looked at Ryn, eyes clear and uncompromising. She knew what he would say, and accepted it in her heart. She trusted him and that was all that mattered.

"Very well," Arthur said. "I will ask her to leave. Stand down," he instructed the knights.

They put away their weapons reluctantly and moved their horses to join Arthur. The soldier, however, decided this meant he was allowed to continue his abuse of Ryn. He attacked her again, grabbing violently at her tunic to tear it off her body. Ryn began to fight him off – she had grappled with bigger men than he – but discovered it wasn't necessary. The man's face contorted in pain and he fell to his knees in front of her, Lancelot's sword thrust deeply into his back. She stepped away and let the man fall the rest of the way to the ground as Lancelot's sword came, sucking and gurgling, out of his back.

Lancelot turned to look at Arthur. "I warned him," was all he said.

"You did," Arthur acknowledged. "Accompany Ryn to the forest. She knows her way from there."

Ryn pulled on a new tunic Galahad had given her and re-mounted her horse. Arthur walked his horse next to her. "I'm asking you to leave," he said quietly, "but don't be far away."

She nodded, understanding his intent completely. She was to function as she was trained – as scout for the knights, going ahead of them to make sure the way was safe and warning them of any danger before they encountered it. The only difference would be that she would have to be invisible not only to their enemies, but also to them.

She and Lancelot turned and rode hard for the forest. She wanted to be as far away from the hated Romans as she could get.

When they were a little ways inside the dense trees, they reigned in their horses to a halt.

"Will you be all right?" Lancelot asked her.

"Aye," she responded. "I'll never be far."

He nodded, all of him wanting to hold her again. "Be safe," he instructed instead, then turned his horse and rode back to join the company.

Ryn fought off the hot tears of humiliation and loneliness that threatened to distort her vision as she watched Lancelot ride off. "Focus, Ryn," she muttered to herself. Her horse tossed his head impatiently. "Aye. Let's go," she told him, urging him onto a precarious deer trail and through the woods.


	5. Battle

_AN Alrighty...Ryn is settling into her new role. I'll post a couple of chapters today, just to keep things moving along!_

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_**Battle**

That first night, Ryn made camp within shouting distance of the knights. Their journey had, thus far, been uneventful. Ryn had spotted neither hide nor hair of the Woads. She hoped their mission would continue to be so calm.

She was tending the coals under the hare she had caught for her supper when she heard a twig snap. She listened carefully for more sounds – rustling leaves, the pressure of foot on ground, and determined Bors was coming to find her. She backed away from her fire and hid herself in the woods.

"Ryn," Bors whispered as he entered her camp. "Ryn, are you here?"

As he made to move forward to look for her, he felt the cold, hard point of a sword at his back. She had come up behind him. He held out his hands in surrender. "I'm not armed."

"I know," she said, laughter in her voice. "I just love seeing the look on your face." She let down her sword.

He turned around to face her, a big smile on his lips. "I think we may have trained you too well," he chuckled.

"Don't be jealous of me just because I'm a better knight than you," she grinned.

"Aye, that you are," he admitted.

A silence fell between them as she waited for him to speak again. "Ryn, I want to apologize for myself last night. I was drunk and… not used to seeing you as you are."

"I'll admit that even I'm not used to seeing me as I am," she said, looking ruefully down at herself.

"I'll miss having you around," he said.

"I'll never be far," she assured him.

"Aye, but I'll still miss you."

She grinned up at the big young man. "Thank you, Bors."

He swept her up in a huge bear hug. "Take care of yourself, little sister," he instructed.

"I will," she said in a choked voice, "but you'll have to try not to squeeze the life from me, first."

He let her go with a chuckle and took his leave of her.

The next morning, Tristan caught up with her as she tracked fresh signs Woads had left behind them the night before.

The two worked silently, making their way slowly through the underbrush, careful not to disturb the trail they were following. Suddenly, they both stopped in their tracks, trained eyes and ears scanning their environment. In sync, they pulled their bows from their saddles and arrows from their quivers, nocking them in the strings and pulling them taut. He tapped twice on the yew of the bow with his ring to indicate two spies. She nodded silently and waited. Their horses stilled, sensing their masters' need. The scouts watched along the sights of their arrows, waiting for their quarry to come just that little bit closer.

Tristan was first to let his arrow fly, his hawk-like eyes capable of picking out his mark from distances others would find impossible. Ryn's arrow followed shortly after, her eyes only slightly less capable than her companion's.

They walked their horses quietly over to where their prey lay, dead. Two Woad scouts, on the hunt for them, no doubt, each with an arrow protruding fatally from an eye socket.

"Go back to the others," Ryn told him. "I'll finish up here."

Tristan nodded his assent and left her. She dismounted and dragged the bodies off the trail, covering them with broken branches and leaves. Fortunately, the Woads' body makeup, which served to camouflage them in the forest, also helped her to hide their bodies there.

She got back on her horse and left the deer trail. She took a wide berth through the forest, hoping to come up on the Woads from the opposite side of the knights. She found their camp quickly enough, and settled in, waiting for her companions to arrive.

Only moments later, she heard a falcon screech above her and whistled, calling it down to her. The bird swooped through the trees and alighted on her waiting arm. She stroked the bird's chest and slid the piece of parchment she had ready into the leather strap on its leg, tightening the knot before launching the bird back into the air. The Woads would have no idea what was coming.

As she expected, all hell broke loose when Arthur and his knights arrived. They had snuck up on the camp from the Woads' unprotected flank, exactly as she had instructed they should. The Woads, however, were not a people who could ever be caught languishing. They lived prepared to fight and, even having been caught unawares, put up a vicious fight. Ryn stayed at her post, hidden in the woods, bow at the ready. She let fly more than a dozen strategic arrows, picking off Woads who came too close to taking out one of her brother knights from behind.

One of the keener Woads spotted her and ran towards her in a blinding fury, intent on the kill. She unsheathed her sword and calmly waited for him to approach. When he was close enough that he would be unable to avoid being struck, she took aim and hurled her sword at him. The strong blade hit its mark and sliced through the man's throat, lodging itself up to the hilt. The man fell to the ground without so much as a sound. She walked her horse over to the now dead Woad and retrieved her sword.

By this time, the knights were finishing up their work. One or two Woads had made good their escape, but all the rest lay dead or dying on the ground. Arthur, blood-soaked and sweating from the battle, looked into the forest to find Ryn. He recognized her arrows protruding from the bodies of many of the Woads at his feet and knew she had never been far. He saw a flash of steel as she cleaned her blade and managed to catch her eye before she disappeared into the forest.


	6. Good Counsel

_AN In case you haven't noticed, I like exploring Ryn's relationships with some of the knights. Let me know what you think!_

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_**Good Counsel**

Ryn again made camp that evening within shouting distance of the knights. This time, as she prepared her dinner, she heard Arthur make his approach. She heard him pause at the edge of her camp, as if debating whether he should continue.

"It's all right, Arthur," she said, "I promise not to kill you."

The young man stepped forward into the light of her small fire. "You knew it was me?"

She grinned. "I've spent three years listening to the way each of you walks. I picked you out almost as soon as you left your camp. Come," she said as she carefully turned the pheasant on the spit, "sit."

He did as he was told, unable to prevent himself from salivating over the cooking meat; he had not yet had opportunity to eat. Ryn handed him a mug of water and held up her hand to silence him when he tried to speak. "First, we eat," she instructed, taking the bird from the fire and expertly slicing it into two chunks, one for each of them. She then removed two leaf-covered packages from under some coals and pushed one toward him. The smell of mushrooms and herbs assaulted his senses when she cut the package open and he forgot his business, devouring the small meal instead.

When they finally finished their last few mouthfuls, Ryn sat back and looked at her commander. "Now we can talk."

Arthur leaned back on an elbow and poked at the fire with a stick before beginning. "You did well today."

"I did as I was trained to do," she stated.

"When I take full command of the knights, I want you to rejoin our company."

She smiled. "Let us cross that stream when we arrive."

He nodded thoughtfully. "The Woads will be more wary now," he mused.

"Yes. They are setting traps for you as we speak."

"You know this?" he asked.

"Those that lived made quick time to the next encampment. They will not be caught unawares again."

"What do you suggest?"

She stared at the fire, contemplating his question. "Their immediate objective seems to be to route the Romans from Lundlin. Their campaign is to take back Britain one town at a time, but they will likely not send reinforcements. Lundlin does not warrant it – it's not important enough. I think Merlin may be testing you, finding out what kind of threat you may pose to him."

"So we show him," Arthur said.

"They will have joined camps by now, rather than staying dispersed," she observed.

"Then we will strike hard and fast, before the sun rises. I will divide the company and attack from the east and the west."

"Give me Tristan. We will leave before dawn."

"Consider it done." He stood to leave.

"How are the men?" she asked as he brushed some rogue leaves from his sleeve.

"Well. One or two small scratches. Nothing worse than that."

"Good. Give them my greetings."

"I shall. Godspeed, little sister." And with that, he was gone.

Ryn could not sleep that night. The adrenaline of the day's battle still raged through her and her mind would not settle. By the time Tristan found her, she had been ready and waiting for over an hour.

As usual, the two did not speak, merely worked their way slowly and carefully towards the Woad encampment, disabling booby traps and other devices as they found them. When they had made a full assessment of the encampment, Tristan returned to the company and Ryn established her hiding place.

The Woads' defeat was quick, if bloody. The knights were too efficient, too well trained and too determined to be taken down easily. The Woads may have had passion and readiness, but they did not have Arthur and his knights. Ryn's pride brimmed over as she gave her final nod to Arthur before retreating out of sight of the company.

Lancelot gazed around at the devastated encampment. So far, the knights' first two battles had ended in unquestionable success. Each had played their part to perfection, even the disenfranchised Ryn. He felt a crushing sadness well up in him at the thought of her. He wished she were with him now, celebrating this success. He could picture her triumphant smile and shook his head at the injustice of it all. She belonged here, with them, as one of them, not living in the forest as a ghost. He sighed heavily and got back to work.

After securing Lundlin and patrolling the immediate area for further Woad incursions, the knights began their journey back to Hadrian's Wall. They were tired, but self-satisfied. They had lost no one and each of their campaigns had been rousing successes. They did look forward to the comforts of home again, however.

When they were closest to the forest and a short distance from the Wall City, Lancelot fell to the back of the company in the hopes of speaking with Ryn. It didn't take him long to find her, as she was keeping up with them, pace for pace, far enough away for her to see them, but not close enough for them to see her. He fell into step with her.

"Will you come back to the city?" he asked.

"I cannot," she answered. "I have been asked to leave."

"Where will you go?"

She shrugged. It was the question she'd been pondering since they began the journey back to Hadrian. "I think I'll pitch my tent in the forest. Close enough to be of assistance, far enough to not be noticed."

Lancelot shook his head in disgust. "This is not right. You are one of us."

She smiled at him. "No, I'm not, Lancelot. I have never been. I see that now."

He reached over and grabbed her hands at the reign, stopping them both in their tracks. "Don't ever say that," he said; his eyes dark and brooding.

Her heart stirred in her chest as they sat there, looking at each other. "If you say so," she finally said to break the spell.

They rode on a while longer together in silence. "You'd better get back," she told him. "They'll be looking for you."

"I will see you soon," he promised, and with that, he was gone.

She reigned up a few paces later, having found a tiny clearing in the woods that would make a good place to pitch her tent. She could see the fortress, but knew that with the right camouflage, no one would be able to see her. She heard the trumpets sound and the city's people cheer at the return of their knights. She had no interest in that kind of glory.

She was surprised at how content she was with her situation. Perhaps it had something to do with being freed of the Roman's control over her. Perhaps it was the image she had of the dwelling she would make for herself here – it reminded her so strongly of home that her hands began to shake, anxious to begin making camp.

She dismounted and stood gazing at the fortress – a place that had always felt like prison to her. Her people were nomads, moving from place to place as grazing and hunting would allow. Being cooped up on a walled city had made her feel claustrophobic and desperately homesick.

She stroked her horse's muzzle thoughtfully. "And what of you, Maeglan?" she asked the steed. "What shall I do with you?" The horse nuzzled her neck affectionately. "I know," she murmured. "But you will be better taken care of with the others." She unloaded the horse of all her supplies, then led him out of the forest. "Go," she instructed. "Find Lancelot. He'll see to you." The horse just stood there, reluctant to leave her. "I'll be fine," she assured it. "Go, find Lancelot," she insisted, smacking its rump to send it on its way.

Lancelot was just giving his own horse to a stable hand when he heard Maeglan's distinctive whinny. He walked over and took the horse's reigns. "She's sent you away, too?" he asked the horse. Maeglan kicked the ground with his hoof and snorted his disappointment. "Aye, she's a stubborn one, I know. Let's get you fed and watered. You can help me with a task later tonight."


	7. Home Away From Home

_AN Okay, this is a jucier chapter as far as Ryn and Lancelot go. Tell me what you think!_

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_**Home Away From Home**

Ryn made good her plan and pitched a tent with the supplies Lancelot and Maeglan brought her that night. The other knights snuck out as they were able over the next week to help her fortify the little dwelling against Britain's relentless rain and miserable winters. None of them liked the situation, but most would admit that her small tent reminded them more of home than anything else in that God-forsaken country.

When Ryn finally deemed her living quarters complete, Bors declared the need to properly christen it. That night, the knights secreted two kegs of ale and four flagons of wine into the forest for a celebration. They gathered in the small clearing and, for the first time since they'd reached their post, began to talk of home and their plans for what they would do when they finally returned, the ale and wine doing their part to help the conversation along.

Arthur listened thoughtfully to their stories and dreams, lamenting the fact that these men whom he had grown to love and trust were not, in truth, free. He knew the loyalty they gave him was of their own free wills, but that did not extend to the Romans for whom they served.

"Ah, I wish I could sing," Gawain lamented. "I feel like this occasion warrants song."

Lancelot nudged Ryn. "Sing," he urged, knowing full well that she could – he used to listen to her sing while she worked when they were children.

"Aye, Ryn," Galahad prompted, "sing. Sing!"

The others joined in the chant until she had no choice. "Aye, aye, enough. I'll sing," she finally conceded, leaning up against Dagonet, who was closest to her.

They all settled down and listened as she began to softly sing a Sarmatian lullaby in their native tongue. The sweetness of her voice filled up the little clearing and most of them couldn't stop the tears that welled up in their eyes. They did not know if they ever would see home again. Their term of service was fifteen years, but there was no guarantee any of them would even live that long.

There was a collective sigh as Ryn finished. Dagonet put an arm around her, affectionately kissing her head. Lancelot shifted slightly.

"I vow to see you through this and get you home," Arthur promised; his voice low with emotion. "As I live, you will be free again."

"Artorius!" Bors rallied, raising his mug in the air.

"Artorius!" the others rallied back, raising their mugs to their commander.

"Freedom!" Arthur responded, raising his mug to his knights.

"Freedom!" they responded with luster.

The twelve knights and their commander continued toasting, drinking, talking and laughing until the fire started to die. Ryn felt more at home during those hours than she had since her family had died all those years ago. She participated in the banter and the drinking with gusto, eventually finding herself propped up against Lancelot, too drunk to even sit up properly on her own. Her body shook every time he laughed, causing her already unsteady world to slip and fluctuate. The low gravel of his voice as he spoke lulled her to sleep more than once, until she finally couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

Lancelot snickered drunkenly when Ryn's head finally fell back on his shoulder and she began snoring softly. "Can't hold her drink!" he announced to the few men left upright around the fire, lifting his mug for one last swig of ale.

The others chuckled and did the same. They talked a while longer before finally giving in to the lateness of the hour and the effects of the alcohol, pulling their cloaks tightly around them and falling asleep on the soft ground around the dying fire.

Lancelot pulled the sleeping Ryn down with him, curling up around her and covering both of them with his cloak before finally giving in to the sleep that had been creeping up on him for the last few hours.

Waking the next morning, he found her facing him, pressed up against his chest, legs entwined with his own. Her body stirred as she woke.

"You smell like ale," she murmured, not lifting her head from his chest.

"You smell like wine," he countered.

She pulled away from him enough to look at him. Suddenly overcome with desire and longing, he leaned in and kissed her before he could think better of it. He regretted it immediately. Her blue eyes clouded over and her body tensed in his arms.

"Ryn, I…" he started to apologize, but she just shook her head and got up, retreating into her tent before he could do or say anything more.

She closed the flap of the tent behind her and dropped heavily onto her bedding. What had just happened? He had kissed her… but what did it mean? Did he know that all she had done from the time she decided to leave Sarmatia to now had been for love of him? She doubted it. He couldn't know because she had never told him. He was only acting on the normal desires of any young man finding himself in the position in which they found themselves this morning.

Long ago, she had resigned herself to the fact that hers would always be an unrequited love. Apart from Lancelot's complete oblivion to how she felt, she couldn't see how the situation could be otherwise. She was a knight, and always would be. The thought of reverting to housewife and mother, no longer being out in the field helping her brothers in battle appalled her. No man she had ever met wanted a warrior as a wife. Even her beloved knights, when they spoke of the kinds of wives they might take, never once spoke of the kind of woman she had become.

And now he had kissed her and she was thrown into a state of confusion she had never experienced before. She had always been sure of most everything in her life and in one moment, he had destroyed it all.

She lay down and pulled a blanket over herself, praying for sleep so that she wouldn't have to hear the knights leave.

Lancelot himself was conflicted. He didn't know why he'd kissed her that morning. It had seemed the most natural thing to do at the moment. Sadly, he was not known for thinking much beyond the moment in most circumstances. The way he felt about Ryn had certainly grown and changed over the years, and most especially since she had abandoned her boyish disguise, he had just never given it much thought before.

Her outright rejection of him that morning weighed heavily on him, though he couldn't put into words why. He tried desperately to shake the feeling off, reminding himself again and again that she was supposed to be like a sister to him. However, his success in convincing himself of this was only moderate.

There was nothing for it. There was too much work to be done to dwell long on the unexpected feelings of that fateful morning, so both Ryn and Lancelot did what they could to put it out of their minds.


	8. Decisions

_AN Here's some more Ryn/Lancelot conflict for you..._

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_**Decisions**

Only a year after their first campaign, Arthur took full command of his knights. The Roman officers that had been sent to train and mentor the knights had completed their tour of duty in the northern-most part of Rome's empire and wasted no time in taking their leave of Britain.

Arthur's first order of business was to create a suitable meeting place for himself and his knights. Up to that time, they typically met gathered in a circle around a fire, so Arthur thought it only natural to build a large, round table in the great hall to continue this practice. It was important to him that his knights see themselves as equals and he could think of no better way to accomplish that.

The knights were more than pleased with Arthur's design. They were also pleased to see that a thirteenth chair was included around the table for Ryn, who they assumed would now be joining them again.

"Have you spoken with her?" Dagonet asked, indicating the empty chair.

Arthur sighed heavily, his recent conversation with Ryn weighing heavily on his mind. "I have."

"Why is she not here?" Galahad wanted to know.

"She prefers to keep things as they are," Arthur explained.

Gawain was incredulous. "She will not join us?"

"She will not."

"But why? I don't understand," Galahad pressed.

"She feels her presence would undermine our authority and my ability to effectively lead these people," Arthur said.

Lancelot slammed his hand on the table. "That is not true. She belongs with us."

"Hear, hear!" Bors agreed angrily, pounding on the table with his fist.

"Arthur, let me speak with her," Lancelot implored.

Arthur shook his head. "She will not be dissuaded, and she specifically requested that I _not_ allow you to speak with her."

"What? Why?" Lancelot felt stung by the insult.

"She would not say, but I respect her wishes and her decision."

"No," Gawain said, standing. "This isn't right. We endured her excommunication because of the Romans, but they are gone now. It's only right that she join us again. I will go and get her. We are not whole without her."

"Gawain," Arthur's voice boomed his name, "you will not go. I have said all these things to her and more. You know Ryn. When she has made up her mind, she will not be moved."

The knights sat in silence for several moments, stunned by these revelations. They had anticipated the departure of the Romans in part because they believed that Ryn would rejoin their ranks in earnest. The news that she would not was as unexpected as it was disappointing.

"Let us not dwell on disappointment," Arthur finally broke the silence. "Ryn is still part of our ranks, even if she will not join us in an official manner. It is now our full duty to protect this country against the Woads and any other invaders who would launch attacks against the Holy Roman Empire. Our first year as a company has proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that we are not to be trifled with. Now, we must maintain and enhance our presence to ensure the peace and safety of the people we protect."

He went on to explain their next assignment, slight changes in patrolling duties, and intelligence Ryn had given him about the latest movement of Woads in their domain. When he had finished, he sent the knights away on their various duties, then put his head in his hands and began to pray.

"Gracious God, give me your grace. My heart is divided and torn. I do not know the trials yet before me, but I fear for myself and my knights. Protect us as we do your work here in this place. Protect us from ourselves and make our relationships with each other secure. Protect Ryn, God, as she will not allow us to protect her..."

"I do not need protecting," a voice interrupted him from the corner of the room.

Arthur looked up to see Ryn standing there. She was dressed as a commoner and he hardly recognized her.

"I didn't mean…" he started feebly.

"You did," she said. "And while I appreciate the sentiment, I would remind you that I did not make my decision rashly or without aforethought."

He nodded. "The knights did not take the news well."

"I expected as much," she acknowledged, running her hand over the beautiful round table in the room. "You did not take it well, either."

"I wish you would change your mind."

"I wish you would accept that I won't."

"Sit," he commanded, indicating the chair beside him. She did as she was told.

He took her face in his hands so that he would have her undivided attention. "Know this, Ryn. You are a knight to me, as much as all the others. My loyalty to you will never waver, as I know yours will not to me. But you will not be my Achilles Heel. I will not settle for anything less than a unified front amongst my men."

"And you shall have nothing less, Arthur. All that I do, the decisions I make, are for the sake of you and the men. That will never change. You must trust me as I have always trusted you."

Arthur looked into her eyes for a long time, as if assuring himself that all would, in fact, be well. Finally, he bent down, kissed her forehead and released her.

"A ghost you may choose to be," he told her, "but do not become a stranger."

She smiled mischievously. "The gods themselves could not keep me away."

Ryn left the hall and wandered through the town, checking in on Maeglan at the stables and just generally witnessing life as it was lived in the Wall City. In the evening, she made her way to the tavern, where she knew her knights would be.

The local heroes were, of course, the centre of attention. She was amused at the way the women would primp and parade themselves before the men, happy with even a look in their direction, happier to be invited to share a drink, and happier still to be invited to bed. She knew these things went on, but had never witnessed it before, choosing instead to stay in the seclusion of her forest home unless she was called to battle.

She let the twinge of jealousy she felt at the sight of Lancelot engaging another woman in a hungry kiss pass. It helped firm her resolve when it came to matters involving him.

It also caused her to want some ale to drown out the thoughts that came with that firming of her resolve. She made her way over to the bar, but was suddenly pulled down into someone's lap. She turned to look at her assailant.

"Hello, Gawain," she smiled.

The knight's eyes widened so much she thought they might fall from his head. "Ryn?" he asked. "What..? Oh god, please don't kill me!"

She tossed her head back and laughed, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Not tonight, Gawain."

The other knights perked at the sound of her laugh and all but swarmed her, Lancelot unceremoniously dumping the girl on his lap to the floor.

"What are you doing here?" came the hissed whispers.

"I thought you wanted no part of this place!"

"Why are you dressed like that?"

She held up her hand to silence them. "You're creating a scene. If you don't go back to what you were doing, I will unman each of you where you stand."

Their chatter stopped abruptly. They knew she was more than capable of carrying out her threat.

She stood up calmly and with a cheeky grin at the girl hovering near Gawain said, "I'm done here. He's all yours."

The girl cast her a very dirty look, but quickly took over her position on Gawain's lap.

After getting herself a mug of ale, she wandered to the other side of the tavern. She felt the knights' eyes on her, but deliberately paid them no mind.

A man eventually approached her and struck up a conversation with her breasts. It amused her, so she did not immediately send him away. All at once, however, several weapons were smacked or thrust loudly onto a table, accompanied by the clearing of throats. The man glanced over at the knights, who were all giving him deadly, menacing looks. He took one look at their brandished weapons and made quick his retreat. Ryn glared at them briefly, then found a spot at a table amongst some older women.

When she looked up many moments later, she saw that Lancelot had positioned himself in a dark corner of the tavern. When he caught her eye, he motioned her over. She shook her head, no, but he silently pleaded with her, so she obliged.

"Can I help you?" she asked sarcastically.

"Arthur says you will not rejoin us," he barreled in.

"I will not."

"But why, Ryn? What have we done?"

"Nothing, you arrogant fool," she said, indignant, "It was the only decision that would benefit everyone."

"It's a fool's decision," he accused her angrily.

She grabbed the front of his tunic and forced his face very close to her own. "You don't dare call me that," she hissed fiercely. "No decision I have ever made was rash or without thought. Being separated from my brothers is not something that I want."

"If it's not what you want, then it's a fool's decision," he challenged, refusing to let her win, needing to be this close to her.

She slapped his face, hard. "Go back to your whore," was all she said before stalking off.

Lancelot put his hand over the place where she had hit him, but it was her words that cut him more deeply.

"Don't upset her," Tristan's voice came from beside him. He was leaning casually against a pillar, eating slices of an apple in his hand. "I have to work with her in the morning."


	9. Vanora

_AN I wanted to introduce Vanora into my tale and could think of no better way to do it... She will feature again in future chapters, I'm just working out how and when. Thanks for all the reviews!_

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**Vanora**

In her anger, Ryn ran directly into the barmaid, spilling ale all over the two of them. She waited for the screams that were sure to come, but the woman just started laughing, her red hair bouncing around her face as she did so. "You are not having the best of luck tonight," she told Ryn.

"Aye," Ryn acknowledged bitterly, "that I'm not."

"Come, let's get you cleaned up."

Ryn obediently followed the woman into a room just outside the tavern where she was tossed a clean dress from a neatly folded pile on the corner of the bed.

When the two had changed, the woman held out her hand to Ryn. "I'm Vanora," she introduced herself.

"Ryn," she answered, taking the proffered hand.

"The knights seem very queer around you," Vanora observed. "You seem to have set them off kilter. Not that I can blame them," she said, giving Ryn an appraising look.

Ryn smoothed the fabric of her skirt. "This is not my…usual attire," she admitted.

"Are you related to one of them?" Vanora asked.

"Pardon?"

"The knights, are you related to one of them?"

Ryn thought about her answer. "After a manner."

Vanora smiled at her vague response. "I'll not press you, dear. But do trust me when I say that your secrets are more than safe with me."

Ryn smiled, unaccustomed the woman's kindness. She had no friends apart from the knights and found herself quite keen to make one.

"Perhaps I will share my secrets with you one day, my lady. But I fear I keep you from your work."

Vanora chuckled. "All you are keeping me from are leering looks from your knights."

Ryn shook her head. "I take no responsibility for their overactive libidos."

Vanora threw her head back and laughed outright at that. "Very well! Then I will not hold them against you." She paused, looking at Ryn as though she were making her mind up about something. "You might introduce me to one of them, though."

Ryn couldn't help but laugh. "Don't tell me you've fallen under their spell too! I would have thought differently of you."

Vanora shrugged dismissively.

"Very well," Ryn said. "Who?"

"Bors," Vanora said.

Ryn's smile broadened. "Good choice."

Ryn deigned to stay at the tavern long enough to introduce Bors and Vanora, who connected immediately. She deliberately avoided Lancelot; her hackles still rose at the sight of him. She could not, however, avoid Dagonet.

He followed her out of the fortress, all the way back to her tent in the forest.

"If you've come to rebuke me or ask me to change my mind, you're wasting your time," she told him without turning around.

"I've come to do neither."

"Then why are you here?"

The big knight folded his arms across his chest. "I've come to see how you're doing."

Her shoulders sagged. "I hit my best friend," she sighed.

"I'm sure he asked for it," he reassured her.

"He did, but that's what upsets me. He's never provoked me like that before."

"He doesn't like to be apart from you. None of us do."

"You've survived just fine up till now," she muttered, moving around her camp, collecting firewood.

Dagonet just shook his head at her. "Your stubbornness makes you very blind sometimes, little sister." And with that, he walked away.

"Wait!" she called after him. "What do you mean?" She furrowed her brow in frustration when he would not turn back. "I am not blind," she harrumphed, turning back to her task.


	10. Forgiveness

_AN This was a fun chapter to write, though it would be a funner chapter to see acted, I think. Hopefully you can use your imagination to it's fullest for this one. This is as much as I have for now, so suggestions as to where to go from here would be greatly appreciated!_

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_**Forgiveness**

A month went by and the tension between Lancelot and Ryn began to take its toll on the entire company. Though they were seldom in each other's presence, they were each testy, sullen and gloomy in everyone else's.

Arthur and the other knights made vain attempts to have the two talk to sort out whatever it was that was bothering them, but neither was interested. Finally, Arthur could bear no more. If they were going to be childish about the way they handled their differences, he would give them a childish solution.

It was a quiet afternoon when Ryn got the call that Arthur wanted the knights to engage in some training. They had not been in a combat situation for a few weeks, so it was only natural for her commander to want to keep them in top form. She packed up her weapons and made her way to the training circle near the stables.

"Why are you doing this?" Lancelot asked Arthur nervously as he tightened the straps on his armor.

"Because you've left me no choice," Arthur told him seriously as he helped his friend prepare, though Lancelot was sure he caught a mischievous glint in his friend's eye.

Arthur gave his friend a hearty slap on the back. "Don't die if you can help it," he advised.

Lancelot glared at his friend and took his place in the ring, anxiety gnawing at him.

When Ryn arrived, she saw Lancelot waiting in the ring, swords unsheathed and at the ready, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. She took one look at Arthur and knew what was going on.

Fine, she thought to herself. If this is how he wants to resolve this, then so be it. Her features were hard and cold as she unsheathed her own sword and entered the ring.

Gawain was standing next to Arthur, watching the scene unfold. "She's going to kill him," he observed.

Arthur nodded, his eyes not leaving the two warriors in the ring, "Probably."

The other knights felt nervous for their comrade. The saying 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' kept rolling through their minds – and this woman could take just about all of them when she was in a good mood. She might have been small, but she knew how to use her size to her advantage: she was just about too quick to catch; her endurance was almost unmatched; she could bear pain better than all of them and she was able to keep so low to the ground that it was futile to try to knock her off balance. Not only that, but she changed her fighting style based on who she was up against and how they were fighting, so it was all but impossible to figure out a good strategy to beat her.

Lancelot himself knew he hardly stood a chance, especially since he was the one seeking forgiveness. Without question, her most devastating quality was the ability to pick out her opponent's weaknesses and exploit them for all they were worth.

The two stood, staring each other down for a good long time before they finally lunged toward each other. Their swords clashed as they met, before Ryn neatly spun around him and whacked his backside solidly with the flat of her sword. The knights suppressed a chuckle as Lancelot glared at them and turned to engage her again.

Back and forth they went, neither willing to give an inch to the other, but Ryn taking the advantage more often than not. At one point, their blades locked together and they found themselves face-to-face as they strained against each other.

"I need your forgiveness for what I said to you," Lancelot managed to get out.

"What did you say?" she provoked.

"That you were a fool," he answered, resenting that she was forcing him through the motions.

She made a sudden, evasive maneuver and released herself from their deadlock, catching his arm with her sword, cutting deep enough to make him bleed.

He gave her a perplexed look. She just gave him an evil grin and attacked again.

He dodged her at the last minute and managed to strike the back of her hand hard enough to make her lose her weapon. She retaliated quickly, turning and striking his offending hand with her fist, causing him to lose one of his swords. She then rammed her shoulder into his gut, driving him to the ground and causing him to lose his other sword. Straddling him, she managed to pin one of his arms to the ground with her knee, but the other he wrenched free to hold back her hand that held a dagger precariously close to his throat.

"Yield," she demanded.

He lurched his body upward, causing her to become unbalanced and allowing him to flip her onto her back. Now she was the one straddled, though he still had the dagger at his throat.

"Forgive me," he demanded back.

She kicked the back of his head, unsettling his hold on her so that she could use his weight to roll them over, putting her back on top.

"Yield," she demanded again.

He had managed to get a hold of his own dagger in the last tussle and, freeing his hand from under her, lunged the blade toward her throat. She caught his hand in time and they were again locked in their struggle.

"Forgive me," he insisted, dark eyes imploring her mercy.

Damn those eyes, she thought to herself. She'd never been able to stay angry at him, even when he'd wronged her in childhood. She held on a few moments longer before relenting.

"You're forgiven," she finally said. "Now yield."

He let go of his dagger and stopped struggling against her. "I yield," he said.

She gave him one last, not-so-unfriendly glare before standing up.

Galahad, who was leaning against the stables as he watched the fight unfold, let go of the breath he'd been holding. "That was probably the most arousing thing I've ever witnessed," he said, then regretted it immediately as Ryn's dagger lodged itself dangerously close to his head.

She stalked off into the stables as a couple of the knights helped Lancelot to his feet.

"You're a lucky bastard," Bors told him. "Just a nick. I thought for sure she was gonna take the whole arm off."

"Are you happy now?" Lancelot asked Arthur as he made his way to a log at the side of the circle.

Arthur just smiled. "I have business to attend to. Dagonet, make sure everyone gets a turn."

Dagonet nodded, but no one else entered the circle right away. They were curious to see how the rest of the day's drama would play out.

Ryn returned from the stables with a mending kit. She sat herself down next to Lancelot. "Shirt," was all she said as she started threading a long, clean needle. Lancelot did as he was told and removed his shirt. He knew better than to argue.

"I really am sorry," he told her as she cleaned the wound on his arm.

"Mmm," she grunted, pushing the folds of the wound together, "you are now, anyway."

He winced as she slipped the needle into his skin. "You enjoy causing me pain, don't you?"

She grinned, focused on her work. "I suppose I do."

When she'd finished, she bit the thread off and sat back to examine her patchwork. "You'll live," she told him, standing. Her eyes scanned the company of knights. "Who's next?"


	11. Secrets

_AN It's been a long time since I've updated this story. I apologize for that - my plot bunnies are eluding me a little. I really wanted to bring Vanora back, but I don't know how happy I am with this chapter. Any feedback you can give me would be welcome. I'll hopefully get another chapter up today yet too, so stay tuned!_

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_**Secrets**

That night, Ryn was paid a visit by Vanora, who apparently had grown tired waiting for Ryn to show up again at the tavern.

Ryn was in the process of cleaning and stretching the skin of a deer she had recently caught and killed. She had blood and fat up to her elbows when she heard Vanora make her approach. She figured it had to be Vanora, since the steps were too light to be any of her knights and too obvious to be a Woad.

Vanora let out a startled cry when she quite literally stumbled upon Ryn's camp. The fire in front of the little tent was bright, but Ryn was so cleverly hidden in the woods that she hadn't seen it until she was almost upon it.

Ryn, busy scraping off the fat from the back of the deerskin, grinned up at Vanora's exclamation. "Our Bors does not keep secrets very well," she observed.

Vanora quickly regained her composure. "Actually, he does. All I could get out of him was that you are actually a knight. I found you on my own."

"Well done. I'm not easy to find." Ryn scrapped the last bit of fat off the section of hide she was working with and stood to stretch the skin on a frame near her tent. Vanora moved quickly to help her.

"I was actually just about to give up," Vanora admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Then I'm glad you found me, or you would've been lost in the woods for a week."

The two women silently finished their task before Ryn disappeared to retrieve a bucket of water to wash up with.

When the two had cleaned, Ryn offered Vanora a mug of mulled wine that had been simmering over the fire.

"So, my lady, shall I tell you my secrets now?" Ryn teased.

Vanora smiled. "You needn't tell me anything. I was just so fascinated by the idea of a woman knight that I had to see for myself."

"It's not all that glorious," Ryn said dismissively.

"Oh, I'm not so sure. The way Bors speaks about you – or rather, doesn't speak about you – makes you seem like something of a goddess."

Ryn chuckled. "Hardly. I'm more of a ghost."

Vanora took a long drink from her mug. "How long have you been with them?" she asked casually.

"Since the beginning. Lancelot and I are from the same tribe. We arrived together."

Vanora nodded thoughtfully. "That would explain a lot."

"What do you mean?" Ryn inquired, a vague sense of uneasiness creeping in on her.

"It would explain your interaction with Lancelot that night at the tavern."

"Siblings bickering," Ryn explained away, a challenge in her eyes for Vanora to continue her line of questioning.

Vanora gave her a knowing smile, meeting the challenge. "But you are not related to him."

"I am not, though his family did take me in when my own died."

"So it was your love of him that caused you to follow him here," Vanora observed, watching Ryn's reaction carefully.

Ryn was unprepared for this. She sat there, gaping at Vanora, uncertain of what to say. No one had ever said this to her before, though she was sure there were a few who suspected as much. She lowered her eyes to avoid Vanora's piercing gaze.

"If I say yes, will you use it against me?" she asked softly.

Vanora reached out and put a hand on Ryn's shoulder. "I promised you your secrets would be safe with me. I never make promises I don't intend to keep."

The two sat in silence for a time. "Why have you not told him?" Vanora asked gently.

Ryn sighed heavily. "He would not understand."

"Are you certain?"

She nodded. "They all see me and don't see me. None of them really know what to make of me in the end. They have all professed their love for me at one time or another, but there has usually been a vast quantity of ale involved in their confessions. They're only in love with the thought of me. In the end, none of them want a warrior wife. They'd rather wed someone like you; not a ghost in the woods."

Vanora was silent, contemplating Ryn's observations. "Are you content with that?" she finally asked.

Ryn gave a wry smile. "What choice do I have? Everything I do is for love of them. To demand reciprocation from any of them in the way I want would jeopardize…well, everything. I can see no other way."

"I think I see now why your situation is not so glorious," Vanora said.

Ryn laughed. "Indeed. And to add to my misery, they insist on scaring off any other prospects I might have."

Vanora couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Shall I secret men out to you, perhaps?" she asked.

Ryn tossed her head back as she laughed. "That would provide me something of a solution, wouldn't it?"

"Aye, it would. I only fear your standards would be too high."

"Indeed, they might be." Ryn poked absently at her little fire. "Thank you," she said meekly.

"For what?" Vanora wondered.

"For seeking me out. I have no other female friends. It's nice to speak with someone who understands that part of me."

"You're very welcome," Vanora said sincerely.


	12. Grief

_AN Okay - this chapter has some momentum. Forgive me if you feel like I'm dragging out the development of Ryn and Lancelot's feelings for each other. I don't want to rush things. They've known each other for such a long time, it only makes sense to me that they would assume they know exactly what the other person thinks and feels about them. Makes for some good conflict for me, anyway! Please R&R! My ego loves you :)_

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_**Grief**

Many months later, the knights suffered their first loss – Percival, cut down in a brutal Woad guerrilla attack during a routine patrol. Ryn and Tristan only caught wind of the Woads at the very last moment. The knights, though caught unawares, quickly regained the advantage, but unfortunately, Percival could not be saved. The blow to their company was devastating.

The small funeral was somber and depressing. Ryn sang a traditional Sarmatian mourning song and Arthur spoke empty words of courage, bravery and honour. When it was over, the men left the little cemetery to medicate their sorrows with ale and wine.

Ryn returned to her tent with Percival's horse to complete the last funeral rites. The women of her country would take a fallen warrior's horse, wash and groom it and ask it to guide its master's spirit through the underworld.

Evening turned into night before she finally finished her task and began bedding the horse down for the night. It was just as she tossed a blanket over the horse's back that she heard someone crashing through the woods towards her clearing. She quickly drew her dagger and made herself invisible only to see Arthur, drunk and distraught, collapse to his knees in front of her fire.

"Arthur?" she asked, approaching him cautiously. "Are you all right?"

His face was white as ash and his eyes were bloodshot. "I can't do it, Ryn," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Can't do what, Arthur?" she asked, carefully disarming him to prevent him from hurting her or himself in his distressed state.

"Can't… can't lead the knights. I… I've failed them," he rambled. "I should have died. Not Percival. I didn't keep my promise. I didn't make him free."

"He is free, Arthur," she assured him, wrapping him in a blanket.

"He is dead," he spat bitterly.

"There is freedom in death," she said firmly. "Not even your god can deny him that."

Arthur sat back, pulled the blanket around him and dropped his head to his hands.

Ryn squatted in front of him and lifted his head so he was looking at her. "Arthur, you are our commander. We do our duty for love of you, not for Rome. Percival's death does not mean you have failed. We all know we will likely die before the end of this – Percival knew this too. It is the way of things. You must not let this dishearten you."

Arthur sat there, staring at her as she spoke. "I love you," he suddenly blurted.

Ryn was startled. "What?" she asked, dropping her hands.

"I do. I love you," he said again, gaining a strange, drunken confidence in himself.

"Arthur, you are drunk and grief-stricken. You don't know what you're saying." She turned to walk away from him, but he grabbed her hand.

"I do know what I'm saying. I love you. I've always been in love with you. You are… you are everything I've ever wanted in a woman."

Ryn just stood there, staring at him in disbelief. Arthur, Lancelot and Tristan were the only knights who had never declared their love for her like this. But here Arthur was, knocking himself off of that exclusive list.

It was not that Ryn had never thought about Arthur that way before. He was, undeniably, a handsome man and someone she deeply respected and trusted. Of all the knights, she could most easily picture her commander with a warrior wife. But the warrior wife she pictured was not herself.

She steeled herself. "You are not in love with me, Arthur," she said gently, but firmly, pulling her hand away.

He got angry then. "You are out of line, Ryn. I am in love with you and I command you to love me back."

She looked at him incredulously. "You command me?" she asked.

"I am your commander. Therefore, I command you," he stated. He pulled her towards him and tried to kiss her. She resisted as much as she could.

"Arthur, you must stop this," she said, struggling against his drunken grip. "You'll regret this in the morning."

"No. I love you. And if Lancelot won't have you…" He stopped mid-sentence as Ryn delivered a powerful punch to his jaw.

He sat back on the ground hard, a hand on his injured jaw. Clarity came to him through his drunken fog and he realized what he had done.

He looked up at her, his face full of regret. "Ryn… I'm sorry."

She squatted in front of him with a sigh and ran a hand over her face. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I shouldn't have hit you."

He shook his head. He was starting to feel sick. "I feel so lost," he admitted.

"I know. I do too." She took his face in her hands again and examined his jaw. "I don't think I broke it," she said.

He opened and closed his mouth to test it, grimacing in pain. "Let's start this day over again," he suggested.

She grinned. "I wish." She offered her hands to help him to his feet. "You need to sleep."

He nodded and allowed her to lead him into her tent. He collapsed heavily on the mat and fell asleep almost before his eyes had fully closed. Ryn covered him with a blanket and slipped back outside where she soon fell asleep in front of the dying fire.

She woke early the next morning and prepared a pungent tea of herbs to nurse the massive headache she knew her commander would be suffering. Arthur eventually emerged from her tent sober, but looking more disheveled than the night before.

He drank the proffered tea in silence. His jaw hadn't bruised, but definitely looked somewhat swollen. She had been right, of course. He regretted his actions from the night before. It was hard to look at her.

"I should get back," he finally muttered, heaving himself from his seat.

"Will you be all right?" she asked.

He nodded, pausing to steady himself. He forced himself to look her in the eye. "I'm…sorry."

She just grinned. "I know. Be gone with you."

He managed a weak smile back at her before carefully making his way through the woods back to the wall.

Ryn decided it wise to trail her commander to make sure he made it all the way back to his barracks.

Lancelot had spent the night alone. He hadn't felt in any mood to entertain anyone after the loss of Percival. Instead, he spent the night drinking with his comrades. They would fall in and out of silence, now telling a story about Percival, now grieving again, now laughing over a yarn Percival used to tell. He thought more than once about going to see Ryn, but he knew she would only send him away. She would be performing the rituals and would only find his presence distracting.

And yet, he couldn't help but think that just being near her during all of this would be so comforting. She would be singing softly while she washed and groomed Percival's horse and it would feel like home.

It was morning by the time he decided to go see her. When he left the wall, however, the man he saw stumbling out of the woods was the last person he expected to see. Arthur.

There were only two people Lancelot ever felt jealous for Ryn over; Arthur and Tristan. They were the only two men in the company who ever spent any time alone with her. Tristan, in spite of his strangeness, he was sure he could take. Arthur was another matter all together. When he thought of Ryn's future, the only person he could really see her well matched with was their commander. The two of them somehow made sense together in Lancelot's mind and that was a sore point with him, though he never really could explain why.

Seeing Arthur emerge from the forest caused something to snap in Lancelot. White hot jealousy and anger blinded him and he made a beeline for his friend. Arthur looked up just in time to receive another blow to his jaw.

When Ryn saw Lancelot coming towards Arthur with that look on his face she knew so well, she immediately rushed over to try to intercept him. She was too late to stop Lancelot's blow, but not too late to give him one of her own.

Lancelot's stunned expression at her punch just made her angrier than she already was. "Don't you dare act as though you have some claim over me," she hissed at him. "What happened between Arthur and I is none of your concern." And with that, she abruptly turned and made her way back into the woods.

Lancelot collapsed heavily on the ground next to his friend. "I'm sorry," he managed, rubbing his jaw.

Arthur was lying prone on the ground, exhausted and beat up. "No, you were right to hit me," he sighed.

"What…what happened?" Lancelot ventured, not sure if he really wanted the answer.

Arthur gave a wry chuckle. "I made a complete fool of myself. Professed my love to her and commanded that she love me back."

Lancelot couldn't help but smile at that. "You commanded her to love you?" he asked.

Arthur just nodded. "That's when she hit me," he lied, knowing the truth would only complicate the situation more than it already was.

"She hit you too?" Lancelot wondered. "Then I really am sorry."

Arthur was silent for a time. "I just… I don't know if I'm cut out for this, Lancelot," he admitted softly.

"You are more cut out for this than anyone I know," Lancelot said, his voice full of conviction and pride.

Arthur nodded thoughtfully and began to get up. "Well," he said, grunting at the effort of standing, "if you and Ryn think so, I'll carry on."

The two men began walking back to the barracks to nurse their wounds.

"I wish you would tell her," Arthur said quietly when they were near the gates.

"Why?" Lancelot asked, not sure if he was willing to deal with this issue just then.

"It would help me be more unequivocal about how I feel about her."

Lancelot grimaced. "I don't know that she would ever give me the chance."


	13. Fear

_AN Don't hate me for this chapter! I had to add some peril or I couldn't call this an Action/Adventure anymore! Read and Review, please, please, please!_

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_**Fear**

There's nothing for it, Ryn thought to herself, I'm not at my best today. She stifled a cough as she eased Maeglan through the dark thicket, tracking recent Woad movements. Her pride had prevented her from begging off this patrol. She hadn't thought she was sick enough to warrant it, but her symptoms were only getting worse as the day progressed. It was early fall, one of her favorite times of the year, temperature-wise, but she was not comfortable. One moment she'd be chilled to the bone and the next, hot to the point of wanting out of all her clothes.

She closed her eyes tightly to try to convince her aching body it was healthy. Just a few more hours, she thought. This is a routine patrol. The Woads haven't attacked us for months. There's no reason for them to start now. She didn't quite believe it, though. She had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach – it was an old and familiar sensation, one she often felt right before a battle broke out. She tried to shake it off as irrelevant; telling herself it was her illness, nothing else.

She looked up suddenly when she heard a falcon screech in the sky above her. Tristan came bearing down on her an instant later, eyes cold and full of purpose. "They're coming," was all he said as he and his horse galloped past her and disappeared again behind her to warn the others.

Adrenaline kicked in then as Ryn spurred Maeglan forward. She felt its healing energy flow through her as she approached the Woads from their flank, bow and arrow already picking off enemies as she went. The knights met them soon after and the fighting started in earnest.

Just as she was about to let another lethal arrow fly, Ryn was abruptly knocked off her horse. She regained her feet in time to see a Woad drop to the ground from a long rope. He'd swung out of a tree to take her down. She cast her bow aside and unsheathed her sword to face him. He gave her a menacing smile through his blue body paint and then ran towards her with a savage cry. She expertly met him, slashing and dodging as they danced around each other.

Their death dance was hardly begun when she felt the adrenaline slipping away from her. Her vision began to blur at the edges and it took all of her strength to concentrate on defending herself against her opponent. Her strength seemed intent on abandoning her, however, and she lost the advantage. The man dodged her blow and managed to knocked her off balance. He attacked her from behind, the tip of his blade cutting through the leather of her tunic and slicing up her back.

The shock of pain was enough to bring Ryn one last surge of energy. The man had raced past her and not immediately turned to confront her again, sure of his victory. She took advantage of his overconfidence and swung her sword hard and fast at his neck. She heard him take a last, doomed gulp of air as her blade made short work of his throat. She waited for the familiar bubbling and gurgling of blood and air before she let herself fall to the ground.

The pain of her wound was crippling. It was as though her blood was made of alcohol and someone had lit a fire on her back, igniting the rest of her body. She fell on her face in agony, blackness closing in on her fast and unforgiving.

When the knights had finished driving the Woads back into forest, Arthur paused to look for Ryn. As usual, she had stayed out of sight, defending them from a distance. She didn't come into view, however. He waited, thinking she may be chasing off the last remnant of enemies. When she still didn't make her customary appearance, he began to worry.

Lancelot caught sight of his friend's worried expression as he stared into the forest and immediately knew something was wrong.

"Where is she?" he asked Arthur, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

Arthur shook his head. "Let's find out."

The two began to make their way into the thicket, followed in short order by the other knights. They spread out to maximize their search. The woods began to close in around them, cutting them off from each other until Tristan's voice rang out, "She's here!"

Lancelot made what felt like a mad dash towards Tristan's voice. Anxiety had taken hold of his heart and he feared the worst.

When he reached the place where Tristan was hunkered down on the ground, he thought his fears had been realized. Ryn lay flat on her face with a huge gash down her back. He stopped dead in his tracks. In his shock, he lost all ability to move.

Arthur's stomach heaved at the sight of Ryn lying there, also fearing the worst. He managed to keep his body moving and made it to her side.

"She's alive," was all Tristan said and it was all any of them needed.

Ryn's body stirred just then, but both Arthur and Tristan put powerful hands on her to keep her from getting up.

"Ryn, you've been injured," Arthur told her, surprised at how calm his voice sounded. "You need to lie still until Dagonet can have a look at you."

Bors and Dagonet were the last to make it to the scene. Bors, too, was stopped in his tracks, but Dagonet just put his head down and went to work. He took his dagger from his boot and neatly cut Ryn's tunic the rest of the way off so he could have a better look at her wound.

"Water," he called out to his comrades. Galahad was the first to react, bringing a skein over and helping to wash the blood and dirt from Ryn's back.

"He missed the spine," Dagonet observed, relieved, "but it's still deep. I'll need to stitch her where she lies."

Bors, who had quickly come back to himself, made a quick investigation of the scene with Gawain. "Paid for it with his life," he said, holding up the nearly-severed head of Ryn's attacker.

"Good girl, Ryn," Gawain muttered with a grin.

Lancelot finally recovered from his shock and bent down near his friend. He gingerly touched her arm and was startled at the heat radiating from it. "She's burning up," he said, his voice full of concern.

Dagonet just nodded. "She looked ill this morning. This will have done nothing to help that. We need to get her back to the Wall."

"Then get her mended up and let's go," Arthur instructed, standing. "Galahad, stay and help Dagonet. Tristan…"

"I know," the dark knight said, nodding and swiftly mounting his horse.

"The rest of you, with me. We will secure supplies from the village nearby to transport Ryn." Arthur offered a hand to help Lancelot off the ground. He embraced his friend. "She'll be fine," he said, to reassure both of them. Lancelot nodded absently, his distressed expression proving he wasn't convinced. "Tend to Maeglan. She'll have your head of something happens to her horse."

Lancelot did as he was told, watching Dagonet and Galahad from the corner of his eye as they worked over Ryn. He could tell Maeglan was just about as distressed as he was. The horse pawed at the ground with his hoof and bucked his head repeatedly, snorting in protest at the scene before him. "Shh," Lancelot tried to calm the beast, stroking its head. "She's in good hands. Besides," he said, adjusting the horse's bit, "she promised she wouldn't leave."


	14. Death's Door

_AN Please don't be angry at how long it's taken me to update this. I've run out of steam to some extent and my plot bunnies are very hard to catch lately. Anyway, enjoy this bit and give me suggestions for where to go next! (Read: Please R&R!!)_

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_**Death's Door**

The company arrived back at the Wall City in the middle of the night. A silent desperation drove them at a pace they would never normally travel. Ryn had wandered in and out of consciousness as she lay in the wagon they had conscripted to transport her, never thoroughly aware when she was awake. She would struggle against the blanket Dagonet and Galahad had tightly wound around her to prevent her wound from re-opening, and Lancelot would stroke her hair to try to calm her down. Arthur had allowed him to stay with her in the wagon, and for that he was grateful.

The knight's weapons and horse master, Jols, met them at the gate. Tristan had rode ahead to alert him to their arrival. The efficient servant had secured a private room in the infirmary for Ryn and had woken Vanora, who quickly got busy making preparations for her patient.

The knights were visibly tired and shaken when they arrived. Jols corralled their horses while Bors and Dagonet carried Ryn away. Vanora quickly took over, giving Dagonet and her lover brisk instructions of how to position Ryn on the bed and supplies that she still needed. The two men worked silently and quickly, their features dark with anger over the plight of their little sister. When they had finished, Vanora shooed them away and called for Lancelot.

"You'll need to help me unwrap her," she told him as she carefully unlaced the leather straps binding the unconscious woman.

He carefully lifted Ryn's body at Vanora's instruction until the blankets were completely removed. Ryn's ripped leather tunic hung loosely over her chest. Vanora took one look at the pained expression on Lancelot's face and had him roll Ryn on to her stomach before she removed the tunic completely.

Ryn's wound was raw and violent. Blood had caked over the stitches and it almost looked worse than it had when Lancelot first saw it.

Suddenly, Ryn's body tensed and her eyes flew open. "Lancelot!" she cried out in delirium.

"I'm here, I'm here," he told her, grabbing her hand.

"Don't…I can't…" she rambled incoherently.

He stroked her dark locks. She was still burning up with fever. "Hush. You're hurt. You need to rest."

Her body slowly relaxed. "Don't…don't go," she whispered as her eyes finally closed again.

"I won't leave you," he promised in a pained whisper.

Vanora's heart broke as she watched the scene, knowing that neither Lancelot nor Ryn could see what she was witnessing. Their love for each other ran deep and strong, but neither could admit it to the other. Maybe this would break the spell…providing Ryn lived through the night.

She gently cleaned Ryn's wound, careful not to disturb Dagonet's stitches. She dressed the wound in clean cloths, then set a kettle of water and herbs to boil on the fire.

Lancelot refused to move from his post next to Ryn. He wouldn't even leave to eat or to change out of his battle clothes. Most of the other knights wandered in and out of the room throughout the night, checking in on the situation, all save Arthur.

The sun was eking its way through the morning's cloud cover and Vanora was dozing fitfully at the small table in the room before the Roman finally made his appearance.

"Where have you been?" Lancelot couldn't hide the angry edge in his voice.

"Attending to matters that needed attending to," Arthur answered, his voice hard, challenging Lancelot to push him.

The two men stared each other down for a moment before Lancelot relented. He knew he was in no condition to have any kind of argument with Arthur.

"How is she?" Arthur asked, kneeling by Ryn's bed.

"It's hard to tell," Lancelot answered, his voice heavy with fatigue and worry.

"She's strong," Arthur said, more to himself than Lancelot. "And she's stubborn."

Lancelot just nodded. He'd been reminding himself of that for most of the night.

"Go," Arthur told his friend. "Wash. Eat. Sleep. I'll stay with her until you're rested."

Lancelot hesitated. "I promised I wouldn't leave," he said.

"She'll understand," Arthur said. "Come back when you're ready."

Still Lancelot hesitated.

"It's not a request, Lancelot," Arthur said darkly.

The haggard knight gave in and left the small room. Arthur took his place on the small stool next to Ryn. He put a hand on her forehead and felt the feverish heat still radiating from her. He frowned deeply. He wasn't sure what it would do to the men – to him – if they lost her.

After an hour or so, Arthur felt his eyes growing heavy. He had not slept that night, either. He leaned his head on the wall next to Ryn's bed and closed his eyes to rest them.

He hadn't intended to fall asleep, but sleep he did. When he woke a few hours later, he found Vanora bent over Ryn, carefully inspecting and cleaning the angry wound on Ryn's back.

"How is she?" Arthur asked, trying to urge himself into more wakefulness than he felt.

"Her fever finally broke," Vanora said softly. "I was more worried about that than this."

"She'll live, then," he affirmed, gently moving a strand of Ryn's hair from her face. Her skin didn't feel nearly as hot and for that he was very glad.

"Aye," Vanora acknowledged. "I'm becoming convinced this one will outlive us all."

Ryn stirred then, opening her eyes a crack for the first time in many hours.

"Arthur?" she managed, her voice low and hoarse. She knew it was him. She recognized his smell.

"I'm here," he said, leaning down so she could see him.

She managed a weak smile. "Good."

"You should have told me you were sick," he chided her.

"I suppose I should have."

"Your stubbornness almost got you killed."

She smiled again, closing her eyes against the effort. "Maybe so, but my stubbornness has saved your life more than once."

Arthur grinned back at her. She'd be all right. "I'll never win with you, will I?"

"No. Not even when I'm at death's door."

A fit of coughing gripped her just then, causing fresh waves of pain to surge through her. Arthur put a hand on her head when it passed.

"You need to rest," he said.

She nodded weakly, still grimacing with pain.

"How are the others?" she managed, keeping the blackness at bay for a moment.

"They're fine. Lancelot stayed with you most of the night. I only just sent him away."

"Good," she murmured before the blackness edged out any remaining conscious thought.

Vanora caught Arthur's eye as they both looked up from Ryn at the same time. She was slightly taken aback at the ache she caught in the Roman's face. She had not anticipated that he would care so deeply about the woman knight. She was careful to mask her reaction, though. She was in no place to tread on these obvious eggshells.

"You should get some rest yourself, sire," she said instead. "I can take care of things here."

Arthur stroked Ryn's head gently before standing. "Thank you," he said sincerely before quietly leaving the room.

Vanora carefully covered Ryn with a blanket. "My, what a tangled web we weave," she said, shaking her head in wonder at all she had seen that day.


	15. Better and Worse

_AN Okay, I was on a bit of a roll again. Here's another frustrating chapter for you..._

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_**Better and Worse **

Ryn had no idea how long she'd been out. She didn't know what day it was, where she was or what exactly had happened to her. A rare fall sun was blinding her as she lay on her stomach on an unfamiliar bed. She turned her head away from the light and blinked hard a few times, trying to make out her surroundings.

Her eyes adjusted enough to make out a dark shape hunkered down next to a dying fire. It was Lancelot. She couldn't mistake his smell – sandalwood and vanilla. At first she thought he was sleeping, but on closer inspection, she could see his dark eyes were open, watching her.

"Hi," she said, trying out her voice. It sounded scratchy and broken.

"Hi," he answered. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was trampled by a herd of horses. What did you do to me?"

The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile. "Wouldn't you like to know."

She grinned at him then decided to try to get up. She moved her hands under her so she could push herself off the bed only to have arrows of pain shoot through her back and across her body. Her face contorted slightly and she collapsed back on the bed with a grunt.

Lancelot winced involuntarily, resisting the urge to go over to her. "Do you remember what happened?" he asked instead.

"No," she answered, struggling to focus while the pain ricocheted over her and began to fade. "I remember…no, I can't remember anything. There were Woads, I think. And I was…was I sick?"

"You were. We thought we might lose you."

"You would be so lucky," she quipped with a grin. She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw to try moving again. She was determined to at least roll onto her side. "Oh, god," she breathed as she eased herself into the new position.

"You should really lie still," he advised.

"How long have I been lying still?" she asked, keeping her eyes closed as she waited for the pain in her body to fade again.

"Three days."

Her eyes flew open at that. "Three days?"

"Aye," he affirmed. "You really don't remember anything?"

She furrowed her brow and shook her head. "I wish I did."

A strange wave of disappointment washed over Lancelot. She didn't remember anything. She didn't remember calling out for him and begging him not to leave. She didn't remember saying his name in her sleep. Nothing. It was all delirium, nothing more. He silently chastised himself for thinking otherwise.

"You haven't been here the whole time, have you?" she asked.

"I have."

"Really? How did you get stuck with that job?"

For a moment, he considered lying to her, but he wanted to know how she would react. "You asked me to stay."

"I did?" she asked, masking her panic by moving again to reignite the pain in her back. "And you listened to me?"

"You're my best friend," he answered honestly and lied all at the same time. Why can't I just be honest with her? he wondered to himself.

"Well, that's very kind, but I'm sure I would've…"

"Did I mention you almost died?" he cut her off, wishing for once in her life she would stop being so bloody stubborn.

She caught the annoyance in his voice and face and regretted blowing off his care. "Right."

A silence fell between them as they each wrestled with the conflicting thoughts and feelings that had welled up inside them.

"Thank you," she finally said softly.

He just nodded silently. "Shall I help you up?" he offered.

"Please."

He got up off the floor and easily crossed the short distance between them in a single stride. She tucked the blanket securely under her arms, then gripped his arms with both hands so that he could help lift her upright. She had again closed her eyes against the new wash of pain. When she finally opened them, she found that she was still gripping his arms and that his face was startlingly close to her own. Their eyes locked for a moment and she thought he might kiss her again. She hoped he might kiss her again. Was this..? Could this be the proof she'd been waiting for or was she again hoping for too much?

Lancelot himself thought he might not be able to fight the urge to kiss her, but he couldn't shake the memory of her first rejection of him. He couldn't convince himself that she cared for him as more than a brother. So he broke their stare and eased away from her.

Ryn hid her disappointment behind another pained grimace.

As if on cue, Vanora entered the room. "Ah! You're awake!" she announced, a pleased smile on her face. She deliberately ignored the tense atmosphere in the room.

Lancelot watched the efficient red-haired woman bustle around for a moment, fussing over Ryn, putting food on a plate for her and decided he was no longer needed.

"I'll leave you to it," he said, indicating his intent to depart.

"Thank you for keeping watch," Vanora said.

"Call if you need me," he said, his eyes again locking with Ryn's, intending his words for her.

"I'll do that," Vanora answered.

Ryn watched the door close and hung her head in defeat. "I need you," she whispered to the air.

"What was that, dear?" Vanora asked.

Ryn looked up quickly. "Oh…nothing."

"You still will not tell him?"

Ryn wouldn't meet her eyes. "There is nothing to tell."

Vanora just shook her head and decided to change the subject. "You're feeling better?"

"I suppose."

"Well, you're conscious; that's a good start."

"Aye." It was then that Ryn noticed her caretaker's belly. "Vanora, are you…are you pregnant?" she asked.

A deep blush came into the woman's cheeks. "You can tell?"

"Just barely, but yes. Does Bors know?"

"I…I haven't told him yet. I'm afraid he might not be pleased."

Ryn began to laugh, but had to stop short for the pain it caused her. "Vanora, Bors will be beyond pleased."

"You really think so?"

"Bors talks more about his future offspring than any man I've ever met. Can't wait to corrupt every last one of them."

"He's never said anything to me," Vanora said doubtfully.

Ryn's grin broadened. "Likely because he's too focused on the process when he's with you."

Vanora couldn't help but laugh at that, but Ryn could tell she still wasn't certain.

"You don't believe me," she said.

"I do, it's just…"

"Let me prove it. Call him."

Vanora, though still dubious, sent a servant to fetch her lover.

Bors, bull of a man though he was, entered the room cautious as a mouse. His face broke into a huge smile when he saw Ryn upright and eating. "She lives!" he declared.

"Aye, brother, I do. Your lady took good care of me."

He swept Vanora up in his arms and planted passionate kiss on her. "She's a wonder, in't she?"

"Aye, and more than that. She's the mother to your first child," Ryn said with a grin.

Bors' smile faded as he looked back and forth between Ryn and Vanora. "Is that truth?" he asked his lover.

"It is. I meant to tell you sooner…" Bors cut her off by kissing her again.

"You're really pregnant?" he asked, his face lit up with excitement.

"I am," Vanora said with a laugh. The two kissed a while longer before Vanora pulled away, an angry look on her face. "Why did you never tell me how much you wanted children?" she demanded.

"Well…I…I never thought…" Bors stammered.

Ryn coughed slightly to get his attention. "You weren't sure if it would scare her off," she said under her breath.

"Yeah, right! I wasn't sure if it would scare you off, what with you being so independent and such," Bors said.

Vanora looked at him skeptically for a moment before smiling and kissing him again.

Ryn endured their passion for only a moment before coughing again to get their attention. "Not to be rude, but I am trying to eat here."

Bors chuckled. "Sorry, little sister, but between you not dying and me being a father, I would say I'm having a pretty good day. Are you well enough for me to steal your nurse from you for a while?"

"Aye, but it'll be on your head if I fall ill again."

Bors gave a deep laugh before sweeping Vanora off the ground and out of the room.

Ryn shook her head in amusement, took a few more bites of food, then leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She'd overdone it already. She was not used to feeling so weak. Her back ached and her head throbbed, but that was the least of her worries. Her heart was in turmoil. All she could see when she closed her eyes was Lancelot. The way he had looked at her before he left the room almost broke her. Everything she couldn't say to him welled up inside her and threatened to choke her. Whose wall was it that stood between them? Hers or his? She didn't know and was too tired to try to figure it out. She pulled the blanket around her and let sleep drown out her tumultuous thoughts.

* * *

_AN Okay, now I need some help...I'm debating between two different endings for this story and I might end up writing both, but I want to know what you'd prefer. One involves me not touching the movie at all and the other has me doing some re-writes. Let me know what you think I should do!_


	16. Need to Know

_AN I had to get this loose end out of the way. It's been bugging me for a while, so I thought I'd finally put it to bed. Thanks for all the reviews and suggestions! I have a funny feeling this story may end up having multiple endings. _

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Need to Know **

After two weeks, Ryn was well enough to feel claustrophobic about her living arrangements. She desperately wanted to go back to her tent, but so far, Arthur had refused to allow it. She figured she had obeyed him long enough and decided she would take matters into her own hands and insist that she be allowed to go. She knew her wound was healed enough to no longer need constant attention and she was no longer sick with whatever it was that had laid her out so badly earlier.

She sent the young woman who was attending to her to fetch Jols.

"My lady?" he asked when he arrived.

"Jols, are the knights at table today?"

"Yes."

"Will you take me to them?"

"Of course," the faithful servant said, hurrying to her side so she could put an arm through his, just to be safe. She was well enough to move around on her own, but fatigue and weakness would still occasionally hit her out of nowhere.

Jols pushed the big oak doors open into the round table room. The knights, their attention drawn to the door, stood when they saw Ryn on Jols' arm. She was thinner than usual and dark circles still rimmed her blue eyes. Most of them found it disconcerting to see their otherwise indestructible little sister in such a frail state.

"Ryn, you should be…" Arthur started.

"Please don't tell me I should be resting," she cut him off as she and Jols made their way around the table to the empty seat next to Arthur. "I'm tired of resting."

"Have you finally come to join us, little sister?" Gawain asked.

"Not permanently, Gawain," she answered, wincing slightly as she sat.

Arthur nodded at his company, indicating they ought to all sit. "You're looking better," he told her.

She gave him a wry grin. "You mean I looked worse than this? That's not encouraging."

"What can we do for you?" Arthur asked, passing her his goblet.

She took a small sip from the cup. "I needed to properly thank you – all of you – for saving my life."

"You'd have done the same for any of us," Dagonet said.

"Aye, but even still…you're all my heroes," she grinned affectionately at them.

The knights grinned affectionately back at her.

"Also, I've come to ask your permission to leave, Arthur."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at her. "You're actually asking my permission?" he wondered. "Normally, you just outright disobey me." He leaned in to examine her. "Are you sure you're feeling better?"

She smiled sheepishly. "I suppose I deserve that." She sighed. "I am feeling better, but your walls are closing in on me. I'd like to go back to my tent."

Arthur scrutinized her for a moment. "Very well. But you'll not rejoin any patrols until I'm convinced you're completely well."

She nodded. "Of course, commander."

"Will you stay for the remainder of our business?" Arthur asked.

"I'd better not or I might start disobeying you again," she said.

"I'll take her back," Tristan said suddenly, standing.

Arthur gave him something of a quizzical look. "Very well." He turned to Ryn. "We'll see you soon," he said.

"The gods themselves could not keep me away," she told him with a grin, accepting Tristan's arm to help her up.

Lancelot's brow furrowed deeply as he watched the dark knight and Ryn leave the room.

Tristan and Ryn walked to her tent in silence, as they were accustomed. The two rarely spoke to each other; they communicated instead through looks, body language and intuition. The other knights often wondered if the two were able to read each other's minds, they were usually so in sync.

Ryn felt better and better the closer they got to her little clearing. She felt as though her chest opened up and she was able to breathe more freely. When they arrived, Tristan gave her the bag of supplies Jols had prepared for her and set about making her a small fire. Ryn saw that the knights had ensured her camp was not disturbed during her absence. Her gratefulness for her brothers overwhelmed her.

When the two had finished their minor tasks to make the camp livable again, Tristan raised an eyebrow and offered her her bow. He could tell she was itching to see whether she'd lost any of her skills over the last two weeks.

She accepted it with a small grin and nocked an arrow in the string. She raised it up only to gasp in pain when she tried to pull the arrow back. Tristan came up behind her and put his hands over hers, helping her steady the bow and draw back the string. He was pressed up against her, his breath slow and warm on her face. They waited, sighting the same target before releasing the arrow into the forest, hearing it thunk solidly into the trunk of a tree.

She smiled, satisfied, not really realizing that Tristan's hands were still over hers. She turned to find his face very close to her own. He closed the distance between them and kissed her before she had time to think. After a moment, she stepped away from him, cocking her head to one side, asking what he was doing without saying a word.

He just shrugged. "I had to know," was all he said.

She nodded. "Now you know."

"Now I do." He bowed his head slightly and took his leave of her.

* * *

_AN If you haven't already, please let me know whether you think I ought to do an ending that has me do some rewrites to the movie or whether I should end it before the movie begins..._


	17. Truth and Consequences

_AN I did it. I can't believe I finally did it! Wow, that was definitely a long time coming. I hope you like it. I really hope you like it. Phew. I feel...I don't know. Funny maybe. It always feels like such a watershed when I get to this point in a story. Please, please let me know what you think! _

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* * *

Truth and Consequences**

Ryn's recovery was slower than she would have liked. After a month, she appealed to Arthur to allow her back on patrol, but, based in part on Vanora's evaluation, he refused. Ryn knew he was probably in the right, but it still annoyed her.

She worked every day to try to regain her strength and endurance. She even ventured to the training circle to work out with the other knights, but Dagonet and Bors typically sent her away before she could even get her armor on.

She and Lancelot did not speak much to each other. She desperately wanted to thank him for all he had done for her while she was sick, but couldn't think of a way to do it without coming clean about how she really felt about him.

For his part, Lancelot mostly tried to keep her out of his mind. He didn't know what had happened between her and Tristan that afternoon in the forest and if he thought about it too much, it just made him angry.

The snow had just started to fall when Arthur found Lancelot in the stables, tending to Maeglan.

"This horse has been antsy and restless for weeks," Lancelot said as he brushed Maeglan's dark coat.

"Much like its owner," Arthur observed, stroking the horse's head.

"When will you let her back on duty?"

"I haven't decided. I have a hard time telling whether she's actually better or if she's just making me think she is."

"Maybe Tristan could tell you," Lancelot said, surprised at how bitter he sounded.

"Tristan?" Arthur asked, puzzled. "Why would Tristan know?"

"Never mind," Lancelot said dismissively, returning his focus to the task at hand.

Arthur scrutinized his friend for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on in his head. "You ought to take him to her," he eventually said.

"Who?" Lancelot asked, thinking at first Arthur meant Tristan.

"Maeglan. I'm sure they would both benefit from some time together."

Maeglan's ears perked up at the sound of his name. He turned his head and nudged Lancelot with a good deal of force.

Lancelot raised an eyebrow at the beast. "Our legends hold that knights return as great horses when they die. Sometimes I wonder if this one's not already possessed by its owner."

Arthur laughed at that. "I'll saddle Eol for you."

After a brief visit from Jols, who had prepared a sack of supplies for Ryn, Lancelot trotted the two horses over to Ryn's camp. He dismounted before leading the two stallions through the thicket into the clearing.

He found Ryn with her back to him. Her tunic was off and she was struggling to clean the nearly-healed wound on her back. He dropped the horses' reigns and took the cloth from her without asking. He dabbed gently at the long scar. It was red and raised, but looked a whole lot better than it had a few weeks before.

"Thank you," she said, clasping her hands together to stop their involuntary trembling. It was just the cold, she tried to convince herself.

"It's looking a lot better," he commented, trying very hard to focus on the wound and not her long dark hair draped over one shoulder or her creamy skin at the nape of her neck. Of all the women in the world, why was it she that had such a powerful effect on him?

Maeglan had made his way to Ryn's side and was nuzzling her face affectionately.

"I thought I'd bring him to see you. He's been making the other horses antsy."

She stroked the horse's muzzle while she waited for Lancelot to finish. He passed the cloth back to her and she put her tunic back on without turning around. She disappeared into her tent for a moment before returning with two large apples. She fed one to Maeglan and one to Eol.

Lancelot was overwhelmed by thoughts of home as he watched her. There was something about the way she cared for and spoke to the horses that brought back so many memories. He knew the others felt the same way. No matter the circumstance, they almost always stopped what they were doing to watch her tend to the horses.

"Shall we go for a ride?" he asked.

Her face lit up. "Really?"

He shrugged. "If you think you're well enough."

She grinned and mounted Maeglan in a single movement. It took his breath away. He'd almost forgot how she looked atop her horse. They melted into each other seamlessly and almost always made him wish he was that horse.

He pulled himself up on Eol and followed Ryn into the forest. He kept close to her flank. She knew these woods better than anyone and if he lost sight of her for even a moment, he might never find his way back again. After weaving their way back and forth through the dense trees, they broke out onto a wide open meadow where Ryn urged Maeglan into a full-out gallop.

Lancelot found himself smiling as he watched her and tried to keep up. This was it. This was the feeling that was always missing in the pit of his stomach – this freedom, this abandon. This was home. Being with her, like this, was home. Now, how did he tell her that?

Ryn felt the wind pull itself through her hair, sending it flying out behind her as wild as Maeglan's mane. Her heart seemed to slow down and pump in rhythm with the horse's steps. She loved galloping at full tilt like this. It felt like they hardly ever touched the ground. She felt Maeglan's muscles contract and extend beneath her and matched her body easily to him. There was no thinking – just being.

She glanced beside her as Lancelot caught up to them. He caught her eye briefly and smiled. God, how she had missed that smile. She hadn't seen it since before they left Sarmatia. All the years of anger, bitterness and fear seemed to have melted off of him and it was all she could do to keep her heart from bursting. This was how it should be, the two of them, riding hard and fast, just as they were. She hated that it had to end.

She let Maeglan slow down on his own. Eventually they were back to a trot and headed back to camp through the forest. She broke off a twig along the way and whipped her hair around it and into a loose bun on the back of her head. It was messy and tangled, but she didn't care.

Lancelot thought she'd never looked better.

It had been such a long time since he'd rode just with her. Watching her, he didn't have to guess at why Tristan might be attracted to her. He also began to understand why Ryn and Tristan never spoke to each other. She communicated so clearly without ever saying a word. She could indicate direction, hazards and even emotions with the tilt of her head, the bend of a shoulder or a glance in his direction. Words somehow didn't seem important now.

He suppressed a sigh. All these years he thought he'd held the lion's share of knowledge about her – now he realized he knew very little about the woman he called his best friend.

Back in Ryn's clearing; they watered the horses and themselves. Ryn's cheeks were still flushed from their ride, but she was very obviously happy. Fat snowflakes kept landing and melting on her long eyelashes, making her blue eyes seem bluer.

Lancelot caught himself staring at her. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"Good. Great. That was…thank you," she said, eyes bright and energetic.

"My pleasure," he said with a flourish and a small bow.

She chuckled at his display, then decided she'd try pushing her luck. "Spar with me," she said.

"What?"

"Please?" she all but begged. "I haven't been allowed in the training circle for weeks and training on my own just isn't the same."

"No, Ryn. Arthur will have my head," Lancelot protested.

"Please, Lancelot," she said plaintively, her eyes big and pleading.

He groaned. "How am I supposed to say no to you when you look at me like that?"

She grinned broadly and went to fetch her sword.

He shook his head and reached behind him to pull his own swords from his back. This really was against his better judgment, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to spend more time with her.

"We stop when you've had enough," he told her.

She chuckled. "We stop when _you've_ had enough," she countered.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh, is that how it is?"

"Aye, that's how it is," she said swinging her weapon at him.

He met her, dodging and parrying past her to smack her bottom with the flat of his sword.

"Hey!" she exclaimed.

"Are you sure you're well enough for this? You seem a little slow," he teased.

Her eyes narrowed. "Slow, hey?" she said, lunging at him again, managing to force him back against a large tree.

"Not bad," he said, before pushing her away and driving her to her knees.

She looked up at him with a coy grin. "You, my friend, have learned some new tricks."

"You noticed."

She ducked and rolled away from him, her hair bursting loose from its bun in the process. It was apparent to her that she definitely wasn't well enough to beat him, but that didn't mean she couldn't put up a good fight.

She attacked again, only to have him catch and trap her between himself and his sword. "Do you yield?" he asked, his mouth very close to her ear.

She elbowed him in the stomach hard enough to make him lose his grip on her. She dropped out of his hold and turned to face him, putting her own sword at his neck.

"Yield? Never," she grinned, waiting for him to recover.

She was breathing heavily and Lancelot could see she wouldn't have enough energy left in her to fend off a last attack. He was suddenly struck with the thought that this was the opportunity he had been waiting for. The smoke that always seemed to cloud their relationship suddenly cleared and he knew what he had to do.

He hesitated. Would he really make this their moment of truth? Would he finally show his hand and let the cards fall where they may? All their time together flashed through his mind and he decided he couldn't go on any longer without knowing one way or the other.

In two swift moves, he batted her sword away from his throat and out of her hand. Before she had time to recover, he had her up against a tree and was kissing her.

At first Ryn didn't know what to do. She'd been waiting and wanting this for so long without a hope that it would ever happen that she was completely stunned for a moment. She was surprised to find herself so quickly relaxing and even getting into it, overwhelmed by the sudden release of everything she'd been holding back from him.

Unfortunately, her brain kicked into high gear again. She pushed him away.

His initial hopefulness at her positive reaction was crushed. "So it's true then," he said, disappointment weighing heavy in his voice.

"What?" she asked, trying to catch her breath.

"You're in love with Arthur. Or is it Tristan?"

"Is that what you think?" she could hardly believe what she was hearing.

"What am I supposed to think, Ryn? You confuse me. You always have. You make everything blurry and uncertain. Just tell me. If you're in love with someone else, just tell me so I can be clear about where I stand with you."

"Where you stand?" her heart was breaking and she didn't know what to do. "Don't you see, Lancelot? I'm in love with you. It's always been you. Since the beginning it's been you. I left for you. I stay for you." There. It was out. She'd finally told him.

It was what he wanted to hear, but he wasn't sure if he'd really expected it. "Then why do you keep pushing me away?"

"I won't be another notch on your belt," she said, sorrow and anger rising up in her. "I'm not a horse to be broken. Do you think I don't know? Do you think I don't hear the stories you and the men tell each other? Women are just conquests to you – little battles that you win and walk away from."

She had him there and he knew it. "Those women have never meant anything. You mean something. You mean everything."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Because. You are home to me. To all of us. You are the only thing in this god-forsaken country that gives us any hope that we'll one day be free. You chose to stay when you could have left. You are loyal because you choose to be, not because you are forced. None of us feel worthy of that loyalty. We don't deserve it. Least of all me."

The gravity of his words hit her like a blow to the gut. Now what? She thought frantically. What do I do? What do I say?

They stood in silence for what felt like a lifetime. Finally, Lancelot couldn't take it anymore. He sighed heavily, defeated by his own admission of unworthiness of her. He turned and started to leave.

Ryn reached out and grabbed his hand to stop him. "You are worthy," she told him.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because," she said, pulling him close to her, "I love you."

He searched her eyes for a moment before kissing her again. It was for real this time, for both of them. She slid her arms around his neck a slipped her fingers into his thick, curly hair. He pulled her closer to him and deepened the kiss.

Years of repressed passion and desire seemed to burst out of them. Before they really knew what was happening, they found themselves inside her tent, pulling clothes off each other, needing the heat of the other's skin, needing to be as close as they could physically get, needing the culmination and release of years of a love that had burned in each of them, but never set free. The fire of that first release consumed them and they didn't care. They were lost in each other and didn't want to think, didn't want to analyze, just wanted to be.

When it was over, they both lay there, clinging to each other, breathing heavily, happy but not satisfied. What they had was too big to be satiated.

The wound on Ryn's back ached, but she didn't care. She ran a hand through his hair. "Will you still love me in the morning?" she wanted to know, overwhelmed by all that had just happened.

Lancelot furrowed his brow as he pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I don't think this is love," he said.

"No? Then what is it?"

"I don't know. It's something bigger."

She leaned in and kissed him softly. "But it's ours, right?"

He smiled, marveling at how right this all felt. "It'll always be ours. No matter what happens."

"No matter what happens," she repeated, feeling truly happy for the first time in her life.


End file.
